


Of Shining Armour and Corsets

by Queen of the Castle (queen_of_the_castle_77)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/F, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_the_castle_77/pseuds/Queen%20of%20the%20Castle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the Doctor doesn’t see the bigger picture. Rose has to resort to some interesting tactics to make sure he doesn’t get too caught up in the moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Shining Armour and Corsets

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon-compliant (until it’s not) rather than history-compliant. Don’t look for more accuracy here than you find in ‘The Girl in the Fireplace’.

She glares at the horse as if it’s somehow at fault for the Doctor’s poor decision-making skills.

“It’s a stupid plan,” she points out. “You can’t go.”

He’ll be trapped, and so will they, and all three of them know it. She can tell he doesn’t want to do it, but he thinks he has to, despite the obvious drawbacks of his plan.

It’s not as if she and Mickey can just pilot the TARDIS to come pick him up, and not even the vast array of crazy devices he somehow fits into his coat pockets are going to be enough to help him jump several millennia into the future without his ship there to help him.

Rose tries to imagine the Doctor being permanently separated from the TARDIS. Everything would fall apart in two seconds flat. Even if he sometimes seems to make things worse just by virtue of showing up, far more often he’s the only thing standing between the universe and complete destruction. He’s needed, and not just by her.

“I have to. The droids need to be cut off from the ship, and Reinette has to be saved. She’s still got an important part of her life to live,” the Doctor explains, exasperated.

“I know that. I said _you_ can’t go,” Rose says.

“What?” the Doctor asks distractedly. If he wore a watch, Rose gets the feeling he’d be glancing at it instead of paying proper attention to her.

She can tell from his stunned expression that he doesn’t expect the whack over the head with the fire extinguisher. He certainly doesn’t expect the second one that knocks him out cold. Mickey catches him as he slumps to the ground, preventing him from further hurting himself.

“I’d say sorry,” Rose says to his unconscious form, “but you kinda deserved that.”

“What’d you go and do that for?” Mickey asks.

“Well he wasn’t exactly about to let me do this without puttin’ up a fight, was he?” Rose says, hooking her foot into a stirrup. “And like he said, there’s no time for that. ‘Sides, except for the lump he’s gonna have on his head, it’s not all that different from that time he tricked me into the TARDIS and sent me away. He can’t really complain.”

With one last quick look down at the Doctor, Rose hauls herself up onto the back of the horse (that _stupid_ horse). She’s never ridden before, but she figures a quick kick to the ribs is as likely as not to make the horse break into a run.

She’s surprised that the breaking glass of the mirror doesn’t shred her skin. It’s quite possibly the first good luck she’s had all day, from the moment Mickey asked to come along on the TARDIS onwards. The impact of the horse hitting the floor of the ballroom is so jarring that she nearly falls off, but she just barely manages to cling on.

It’s not the most dignified of entrances, but it certainly makes a statement. No one could doubt for a second that it was one of the Doctor’s plans.

“Where is the Doctor?” Reinette asks when she recognises Rose. She doesn’t look all that impressed to see her instead of the handsome hero she’d clearly been waiting for. Rose supposes she can’t really blame her. She doesn’t feel much like a knight in shining armour, trusty steed or no. She feels decidedly out of place among the so-called great and the good of the French court.

Still, it could be worse. Rose breathes a sigh of relief as she realises that the TARDIS is still translating Reinette’s French for her. She might be in a completely different time period and somewhere way across the universe from the TARDIS, but clearly the ship doesn’t think she’s permanently broken the connection between them. There’s hope for her yet.

“The Doctor?” Reinette prompts again when Rose doesn’t immediately respond, unsure what to say.

“He was needed elsewhere,” Rose settles for telling Reinette.

“Somewhere more important than _this_?” she asks, gesturing at the imminent peril surrounding her. Reinette doesn’t say ‘than me’, but Rose knows precisely what Reinette is feeling all too well.

“More important than all of us,” Rose says sadly. “Trust me; he really is sorry he couldn’t come.”

Reinette’s indignant expression fades.

“I suppose I’ve always known he belonged to something bigger,” she says.

Rose nodded.

One of the robots suddenly moves towards Reinette again, as if it’s been as shocked as the people all around them by Rose’s entrance but has remembered its task.

“Forget it,” Rose says. “You can’t get back to your ship, so there’s no point.”

The droid is quick to test her at her word. For a moment after it figures out that it is stuck after all, and after its compatriots all test to see if it’s true of all of them, Rose thinks she (or the Doctor, more specifically) might have miscalculated, and that the clockwork things might just kill Madame de Pompadour and probably everyone else in the room out of pure spite for having their plans foiled.

In the end, though, they’re just machines without a job to do.

The robot closest to Reinette seems to slump slightly, and Rose knows that this is thankfully one of those times (sadly few and far between) when the Doctor _hasn’t_ at least somewhat overestimated one of his plans.

“C’mon,” Rose says, reaching out. She pulls Reinette away from the clockwork droids and slightly behind her as if to shield her. The robots don’t protest. They look somehow dejected even though they have no expressions beyond the creepy carnival-smiles of those masks. Reinette clings to Rose’s arm for a moment, her nails indenting Rose’s skin, before she remembers herself and lets go, quickly gathering her poise around her once again.

The robots all fall down almost simultaneously, a number of them breaking apart with a crash of finality.

“Looks like they gave up,” Rose announces into the otherwise dazed silence of the ballroom. “That’s a bit rubbish, just givin’ in like that.”

“You think they should have killed me after all?” Reinette asks, taken aback.

“Course not. I just expected it’d be harder to keep you alive. It never goes smooth. But I’m glad you’re still with us, don’t get me wrong. If nothin’ else, history needs you.”

Reinette looks like she doesn’t know what to make of that. She apparently decides confusion must take a backseat to decorum. “We should get you elsewhere. You are not properly dressed.”

Rose looks down at her T-shirt and jeans. “No, guess not.”

She lets Reinette lead her out of the ballroom. No one questions them or tries to stop them, though Rose isn’t sure whether it’s because they’re as frightened of the strange woman who burst into their gathering on horseback as they’d been of the clockwork creatures, or if they’re just unwilling to question Madame de Pompadour when she has her head held high and is sweeping through the room as if she owns it. It’s probably a combination of both.

“Will the Doctor come back?” Reinette asks once they’re inside what looks like Reinette’s own bedroom.

“Eventually. I don’t know when, though.” Rose wonders how long will have to pass before the TARDIS no longer considers itself a part of events (for she’s under no illusions that the Doctor’s the one who actually calls the shots about exactly when and where the ship ends up) and lets the Doctor land in this time. She never for a moment allows herself to consider that he might _never_ come at all, but she does admit to herself that it could be some time. The Doctor’s no good at being prompt even at the best of times, after all.

“Well,” Reinette says, seeming to cheer up slightly at the thought of seeing the Doctor again. “We’ll need to find you a place in my society until then. The King will not deny me a companion for a time, I’m sure.” She looks over Rose, her eyes suddenly critical. “As long as she is properly presented, of course. I believe I have some clothing you could wear that would be more... suitable. It would be preferable if you did not stand out quite so much.”

“Yeah, all right,” Rose says.

Reinette promptly fetches a dress for her and then stares at her pointedly, waiting. Rose sighs. Clearly there’s no chance of her getting some privacy here. She strips off her T-shirt, and then reaches for the mass of material that she’s apparently going to have to get used to wearing.

“What is this?” Reinette asks before she can grab the dress. She reaches out with her free hand and runs her hands over Rose’s bra, tracing the edge of the cups. Rose shivers at the touch. Not even the few guys she’s allowed to touch her there ever did it so confidently at first. She finds it... distracting. “And where is your corset?” Reinette adds, taking in Rose’s bare skin.

Rose shakes her head. “Corset? Yeah right. You won’t see most people from my time goin’ anywhere near one of those torture devices.”

“You will have to,” Reinette points out. “Even the simplest of my dresses are not designed to fit you without one.”

Rose has dressed herself up in period dresses a few times before, but the TARDIS has always been good about supplying her with something she can put on with relative ease. She imagines having to sit quietly through something like the way maids in period dramas on the telly yank harshly at their ladies’ clothes to fit them and flinches from the anticipated pain. She doesn’t suppose she’ll have much choice.

Though she’s still got to draw the line somewhere.

“I’m not wearin’ anyone’s underwear but my own,” Rose insists when she strips out of her jeans as well, “even if I’ve got to sneak around every day to wash and dry them. No one’ll be seein’ under my skirts anyways, if I’ve got anythin’ to say about it.”

“Your maid will, once we get you one.”

“Oh no she won’t,” Rose protests with a laugh. “How would I explain not havin’ a clue how to wear dresses like yours, or anythin’ else I do that’s odd in this time? I can’t bring any more attention to the fact that I’m not from here than I already have. If nothin’ else, the Doctor’d never stop goin' on about it if I messed up your timeline.”

“You expect me to dress you, then?” Reinette asks, looking down her nose at Rose.

“I expect I can dress myself, actually,” Rose shoots back somewhat snidely, annoyed at how Reinette acts like she’s too good for that.

Reinette regards her for a long moment before sighing and shaking her head slightly. “I may be able to assist you until either you learn your way or the Doctor returns,” she concedes. “I don’t expect it will be _too_ much of a hardship. You have a very beautiful body to behold, after all.”

Stunned and suddenly embarrassed by how naked she is in comparison to Reinette’s opulent state of dress, Rose snatches the dress out of Reinette’s hand and presses it against herself to provide cover. It doesn’t hide her blush quite as well as the rest of her, she knows.

She wishes she could be as collected as Reinette about the whole thing, but honestly, how else is she supposed to react, presuming Reinette really did just say what Rose thinks she said?

The Doctor better get his backside here soon, she decides. She doesn’t know how to survive this time and place _at all_.

France really is a different planet.

* * *

Even after just a few days, Rose thinks she’d rather be stuck in 21st century London working in a shop than having to attend 18th century Parisian gatherings. Even with the slight upheaval of the people Reinette socialises with tittering whenever Rose is near, standing around doing nothing but acting polite all day every day is way more monotonous than that other life she’d been so desperate to escape from, which Rose thinks really is saying something.

She really hopes the Doctor hurries. She isn’t keen on spending any longer in this life than she has to. Intrigues and veiled gossip and quiet dinners and planning all sorts of projects might be to Madame de Pompadour’s liking, but Rose finds she doesn’t suit it at all. She doesn’t belong here.

Of course, as much as she might like a break from the dullness, she’s not really sure what to do when it comes.

Reinette doesn’t say anything further that Rose sees as particularly suggestive for several days. This is, of course, right up until Rose finds herself half-naked once more with Reinette’s hands doing more than just helping her with her clothes.

“We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” Rose says breathily, grabbing the hand that’s straying perilously close to the top of her inner thigh.

“Why not?” Reinette asks. She sounds like she really doesn’t know the answer.

“Well, you’ve got the King,” Rose points out.

“And he has his wife, and a number of other mistresses,” Reinette counters. “What is your point?”

“What, you’re sayin’ the King of France just lets his mistress run around with other people?” Rose asks.

“Of course not,” Reinette says. “The King would be very put out indeed if I was with another man while I remain his mistress. You, however, are obviously not another man.”

Rose doesn’t really see the distinction, but Reinette’s confidence that there _is_ one is almost somehow convincing.

“Of course,” Reinette adds, “if you’d prefer, I could ask him to join us. I don’t imagine he’d protest at all against having two beautiful women in his bed at once, and he’d probably doubly appreciate it since it has been quite some time since I’ve felt quite well enough to... let us say, _satisfy_ him on my own.”

Rose tries to imagine telling anyone back home that she’s had sex with Madame de Pompadour and Louis XV of France in the 18th century _at the same time_. Suddenly just Reinette touching her doesn’t seem so strange after all.

“Er, I think maybe I’ll pass on the royal threesome, if it’s all the same to you,” Rose says.

Reinette doesn’t appear to be that put out, though she still seems bent on convincing Rose to agree to a slightly more conventional twosome. “There is no reason we shouldn’t comfort each other,” Reinette says. “We both wish we could have a certain man, and it so happens it is the same man. With so much in common, why should we not take advantage of the situation?”

Rose really doesn’t know what to say. It’s just as well, since Reinette’s sudden forceful kiss would have cut her off anyway.

None of the boys or men Rose has ever kissed have been even half as forward as Madame de Pompadour. Rose wonders if all women from this time are like this, or if Reinette is special.

When Reinette lets her go, Rose gasps for breath as if she hasn’t been breathing steadily through her nose the whole while Reinette’s been kissing her. It’s an odd sort of breathlessness not quite brought on by actual lack of oxygen.

“Woah,” Rose says faintly.

“You are more responsive than the Doctor,” Reinette remarks.

Rose’s eyes snap open. “Sorry, what?”

“The Doctor mostly acted stunned when I kissed him, though I could tell he liked it all the same.”

“He _what_?” Rose asks.

She knows it’s probably hypocritical to be annoyed at the Doctor for kissing Reinette when she’s just been doing the same thing. She doesn’t care.

Suddenly she doesn’t mind the idea of being with Reinette so much. It’s not as if she owes anyone anything, apparently.

Reinette doesn’t try to kiss her again, though. At least not that morning. The next time she does, though, Rose thinks some part of her might enjoy it more to spite the Doctor rather than just in spite of herself.

* * *

Rose hears the grinding of the TARDIS arriving from several rooms away and sprints towards the source of that sound as well as she can in the meringue-like dress.

The TARDIS door opens just as Rose skids to a stop, nearly tipping over from the combination of her hurry in getting there and the difficulty she still has balancing in outfits like this.

“Ah!” the Doctor says with a satisfied expression when he sees her. “Finally. There you are.”

After so many weeks away from him, Rose is too happy to see him to be annoyed. She launches herself into his arms and closes her eyes, enjoying having him close again.

“I think that should be my line. What’d you do, just keep tryin’ to hit bits and pieces of 18th century France until you found a time where you could pick me up?” Rose asks, pulling back to look at him and refamiliarise herself with that grin.

“Well, I could’ve done that, sure. But that’s a bit complicated, don’t you think, when I could just look Madame de Pompadour up in the history books and find out what date her strange blonde companion disappeared with as little warning as when she showed up in the first place.”

Rose frowns. “And that’s somehow _not_ complicated?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Maybe just a bit timey-wimey,” he admits. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, though. You know me.”

Rose snorts. “Yeah, I do. That’s the problem,” she can’t help but rib him. It’s been took long since she’s been able to. “I’m surprised you showed up in the right century at all.”

“Hey!” the Doctor protests.

“What, no hello for me?” Mickey asks from behind the Doctor. He pushes the Doctor out of the TARDIS doorway so he can sidle his way past him to reach Rose.

Rose has to admit she’s missed Mickey as well, even if she hadn’t initially wanted him along. She hugs him, but the contact doesn’t make her relax into him the way it did with the Doctor.

“Nice dress,” Mickey says, pulling back slightly to properly look at her.

“Yes,” the Doctor agrees softly, “I always did like the women’s clothing from this period.”

And the women themselves from this period, Rose can’t help but recall. She sighs.

“There’s someone who’d like to see you, since you’re here and all,” Rose tells the Doctor when Mickey lets her go. She nods her head in the direction of the doorway behind her. Somewhere beyond it is a woman who would be heartbroken if the Doctor came and went without telling her after he failed to come to save her like he promised. Rose doesn’t delude herself that Reinette will be even half as affected by Rose leaving without saying goodbye, no matter what might have passed between them. It’s not Rose that Reinette has loved since she was a young girl, after all. Rose doesn’t really want him to go, knowing how Reinette feels about him (and how he might feel in return, for all she knows), but she finds she still can’t begrudge either of them a desire to see each other again.

The Doctor hesitates, but he does eventually disappear off through the door in search of Reinette.

Rose distracts herself from thinking about it by replacing the stupid dress (not to mention the corset) with something more comfortable as quickly as she can manage.

He’s not gone as long as Rose expects, though, and nor does he bring Reinette back with him. The moment Rose sees him approaching the TARDIS alone, she realises just how much she’s feared that the Doctor might invite Reinette to travel with them. She has no idea anymore what she would have done about that, or how she would have felt. Mickey was one thing. That would be completely different.

“Ready to go?” Rose asks hesitantly, hoping he isn’t only coming back to the TARDIS momentarily before returning to pick up Reinette.

“More than ready,” the Doctor says somewhat sadly.

“All right then,” Rose says. “I’d like to go _anywhere_ other than 18th century France as soon as possible, then.”

The Doctor doesn’t take them anywhere in particular other than just _away_. She doubts he’s just taking her literally. Rose wonders just how that meeting between him and Reinette must have gone to make him flee like that.

“You all right?” she asks.

“Course I am,” the Doctor says. “You’re the one who’s been trapped in a place without electricity or women’s rights or any number of other things you’re used to for, what, weeks?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Rose says. “Well, some things were a bit hard to deal with, sure. But Reinette was really nice about helpin’ me, at least most of the time. We spent a lot of time together. It was nice, actually.”

“Is that right? You know, the recordings of your time there in France implied a lot about certain things. Well, I say implied. Actually their speculations were pretty outright.” Something about the too-casual way he speaks tells Rose that he’s been dying to say this since he first tracked her down again.

“Speculations?” Rose asks.

“Well, yeah. That you and Reinette... That your _relationship_ was...” For once, the Doctor doesn’t seem to be able to find the words. Instead he trails off into expectant silence, his eyebrows raised.

It takes Rose a second to figure out where he’s going with this, but she knows him well enough to figure out that he’s only ever _this_ uncomfortable about one topic.

“Oi!” she exclaims when she catches on. “I’m not tellin’ you that.”

“So you did!” he exclaims, though he doesn’t sound as impressed as he usually would that he’s been proven right.

“Hey, so did you!” she scoffs. How is it fair that he’s acting as though she’s done something wrong when he’s done the exact same thing? “Just because I rated a mention in the books and you didn’t.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

The Doctor splutters for a second, then says, “Well, _I_ only kissed her. And danced with her.”

Rose laughs humourlessly. “Oh, _danced_.”

“Actual dancing!” the Doctor quickly corrects; perhaps _too_ quickly, Rose thinks.

“And who exactly says I did anything more than that, anyways?” Rose asks.

“I don’t know. Arnaud Bellard, for one. He wrote the book. Blame him.”

Rose isn’t going to let him divert her attention from him that easily though.

“Isn’t it you who always tells me not to believe everythin’ I read?”

“Well, I didn’t _want_ to believe it, did I?”

That’s the thing that finally calms her down.

“No?” she asks quietly.

“No,” the Doctor admits, looking away from her.

Rose nods slightly. “Oh,” she says. “Well.”

“In that case, I could’ve invited her along for a few trips after all,” he muses.

Rose frowns. “What, you only didn’t because you thought me and her...”

The Doctor blushes for the second time in the last few minutes (and also only the second time since she met him, though Rose thinks she could get used to seeing it more often).

“Oh,” Rose says again, then smiles. “You know, you’re a bit hopeless.”

“I – what?” the Doctor asks, looking equally puzzled and annoyed at the insult he can’t quite figure out.

Rose never does explain what she means by that, though. She can only imagine how fast he’d run in the other direction if Rose tells him that she’s finally figured out that he can’t seem to just admit what he feels for her, but he clearly feels it all the same.

“C’mon,” Rose says. “Take us somewhere fun. I’ve missed bein’ out there travellin’, and I bet Mickey would like to go somewhere where no one’s tryin’ to kill us just as soon as we step outside. If you think you can actually manage to find a place where no one wants you dead, that is.” She winks at him to show she’s just joking.

The Doctor looks put out, but he flicks a few switches on the TARDIS all the same, apparently unable to deny her wish.

Rose watches him bounce around the console and smiles. Maybe she should have known how he felt before, despite what he keeps saying to the contrary. He’s given her all of time and space from almost the moment he met her, after all. As first date gifts go, it certainly says a lot.

She shouts for Mickey to come join them because they’re about to land, figuring the TARDIS will filter the message through to him wherever he’s hidden himself away the way it sometimes does when the Doctor calls her.

Mickey staggers out into the console room not long after their rocky landing. Rose smiles at him, but it’s only the Doctor’s hand that she grasps in hers.

~FIN~


End file.
